Moving On
by Golem XIV
Summary: One-shot. Jason wants more than just this friends-with-benefits affair he's having with the reserved, powerful half-demon. But his efforts to convince her may bring an end to their relationship, or break her - or kill him.


**Author's Note:** I wrote a first version of this story a while ago and posted it on Tumblr, but I was never happy about how it turned out. So I picked it up again, changed a bunch of things and polished off some of the roughest edges, and now I think it's ready to be posted here. Have fun.

-=oOo=-

Jason was woken up by the irritating whine of a hair-dryer coming from the bathroom. He groaned and tried to burrow into the pillow, seeking to block out the droning sound.

Another pained groan escaped his throat. The scrapes and bites and bruises ached, but he could live with them. It was the sheer exhaustion of his overtaxed muscles that was shouting loudly its hurtful message into his brain, telling him in no uncertain terms that he should lie down and stop moving.

A grin spread over his face. Yeah, the skin on his back and hips was shredded and he was stiff, hurting, drained and exhausted, but it was all worth it. That woman was a goddamn natural disaster.

The annoying buzzing of the hair-dryer stopped. Clamping his jaw against the vindictive reminders of the abuse his muscles went through last night he rolled on his back, swung his legs over the edge and sat on the bed, propping his elbows on his knees and fixing his eyes on the half-open door to the bathroom.

It opened fully and she walked in, wearing a midnight-blue bathrobe that she didn't bother to tie up. It fluttered around her like a cloak, its dark coloring enhancing the creamy paleness of her skin. Her walk was purposeful and decisive, with a slight, unconscious sway of hips that teased and invited and promised. And boy, could she deliver on that promise.

She strode to the vanity table beside the bed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her body was completely exposed under the flowing bathrobe. In any other situation, the sight itself would make him hard as a rock instantly, but after last night he'd need some time to recover before he could even begin to think about sex again.

"Was it good for you, too?" he smirked, watching her as she sat at the table and looked at herself in the mirror.

"It was good," she replied in her usual dry manner. "Your stamina has improved." She poked her tongue into the inside of her cheek and studied the resulting bulge in the mirror with rapt attention.

He stretched and winced, both at the aches and at her coolness. "I don't really feel like it has," he grinned, trying to brush it away. "You're insatiable, girl!"

Her eyes continued their careful exploration of her reflection. "You can go on a lot longer than you could a few months ago," she observed clinically. "It's not really surprising. All that workout must be helping."

His shoulders tensed, the physical pain ignored. His brows knitted. "Workout? Is that what this is to you?"

The cool violet of her gaze shifted until it found the image of his eyes in the glassy surface. "Did you expect it to be anything else?"

Her impassive scrutiny held him imprisoned for a few moments before she returned to what she was doing. "Raven…" he tried.

She finally turned to face him, her eyes as unreadable and her features as expressionless as ever. "You knew that, Jason. From day one. I never promised anything else."

His lips pressed themselves into a hard line. "Even after all this time?"

She shrugged and turned back to the mirror. "If you don't like it, the door is over there."

His nostrils flared at her cold dismissal and his teeth ground against each other as he fought off the wave of bitter anger that rose in him. A hint of concern shadowed her features as she studied the reflection of his glare.

"Maybe you should make use of it now, while there's still time," she said softly.

Empath. Of course. Damn him for never being able to control himself properly, and damn her for being able to sense him so easily. He shook his head and tried to push it all away. "I'll be OK."

Her eyes lingered on him for another moment before they returned to her own image in the mirror and she began applying cream to her face and neck. He watched her for a while, drinking in the sight of her delicate features.

A smirk crossed his face. "Do you really need that cream?" he teased. He figured she should be somewhere his age, which would put her in her early thirties, but her smooth skin and her taut body were those of a twenty-year-old. "Your daddy must've used a succubus blueprint when he was putting you together."

Her eyes sought him again on the surface of the mirror. They were as cold and hard as the amethysts they so resembled.

"I do not find that observation amusing," she commented in a freezing tone. He waved a dismissive hand at her anger.

"Come on, little bird! Lighten up!" he gave her his most roguish grin. "You should smile a little, maybe even laugh! I bet you look damn cute with a smile on your face!"

A red flame flashed for an instant in her eyes. It extinguished quickly, but before the ice could form over the violet surface he was able to catch a glimpse of the heart-wrenching pain and sorrow that rolled deep inside her. She looked away and the frosty curtain fell again, hiding it all under its disinterested cover.

He sighed and flinched at the discomfort as he got up and stepped over to stand behind her. His hands grasped her shoulders gently.

"I'm sorry. Did I remind you?"

She stared at the mirror and applied the cream to her forehead with quick, mechanical, precise movements. "Remind me of what?"

His fingers moved in small, intimate circles as they pressed gently into the velvety skin of her shoulders. "It's been what, five years? Six? You should really try to move on. Gar –"

She shot up and whirled, the explosive movement flinging the chair away to fall to the floor on its side. "Don't you _dare_ say it!" she screamed and lifted her hand. A bolt of black lightning catapulted him up and he crashed spread-eagled into the wall, the back of his head slamming against the concrete. For a couple of seconds all he could see were flashing white lights.

"Do you think you could _replace_ him?" she shouted while she approached, her eyes now four blazing slits that burned with crimson hellfire, an arc of black electricity sizzling from her fingers to keep him pinned against the wall. "That you could be like _him?_ He was ten times the man you are!"

"But he… is no more," he gasped out, fighting to breathe against the vast pressure on his chest. The fire in her eyes deepened and her hand curled into a claw; he felt her power seep inside him, threatening to tear him apart from within.

Her eyes cooled and merged and became opaque and reflective. Her hand dropped and her power retreated back into her. He slid down until he sat on the floor, his back to the wall and his eyes on hers.

"You're lucky I was always a sucker for insufferable idiots," she said tonelessly and walked to the vanity, lifting the chair and straightening it before she sat down to resume her toilette.

He heaved himself up, ignoring the protest from every aching muscle in his body. He walked over on stiff legs until he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

For a moment she froze and he thought she was going to try and fight out of his embrace, but she relaxed and closed her eyes. He sank his face into her hair and nuzzled her until he could plant a small, tender kiss on her cheek.

"He would want you to do it, little bird," he whispered softly into her ear. "He'd want you to turn the page, move on and try to be happy again."

"You know I detest that nickname, Jason!" she hissed between her teeth

A corner of his mouth went up. "You hated 'Rae', too, didn't you? And don't change the subject."

He felt her jaw muscles bulge where his cheek pressed over hers. Her hands balled into tight fists. He was damn near to crossing the line again, but this time he knew she needed it. He forced himself to wait calmly for her reaction.

Her cramped muscles loosened up slowly. "It's my life," her tone was as cool and composed as always but he didn't miss a dangerous undercurrent to it. "It's my business. Not yours, or anyone else's."

"I'm a thief, little bird," he murmured in her ear. "That means I'm an expert in meddling in things that are none of my business." He smiled and nuzzled her again. "And I'm not going to give up chipping away at that wall of ice you've built around yourself until I've brought it crashing down."

"Or until I throw you out through that closed door for your impertinence!" she didn't bother to mask the threatening note in her voice any more.

"As if that would stop me," he hummed as his fingers drew a slow, intricate pattern on the skin of her arms. She shivered. "Jason…"

"Hmmm?" he peppered tiny kisses on her neck and her ear. Her shivering became trembling. Suddenly she pulled away and turned her head, the violet of her eyes deep and dark as she looked at him.

"What do you want from me?"

His warm fingers brushed over her brow and cheek until they touched her lips. "I want you to give yourself a chance," he replied softly. She shied away from his words, his touch and his gaze, unable to deal with what they were telling her.

"For what?" she asked the mirror through a shaky sigh. "To risk it happen all over again?"

He released her and stepped around the chair to face her, lowering himself on one knee. Her eyes followed him, her gaze desperate like a doe caught in the headlights, wishing she could run away but only able to stay frozen and motionless. "I can't, don't you understand?" her voice grated. "I held him in my arms as he…"

She choked. Her head fell and silky wisps of violet strands hid her face. She spoke again in a broken whisper. "I can't go through something like that again, Jason."

He remained silent for several long seconds. "Did you ever cry for him?" he asked in that same soft voice.

She shook her head, still hiding her eyes. "I – I couldn't, I… I had to – to be strong, for me and… and for the others. I…"

He pulled her towards him, letting her face sink into the crook of his neck.

"Do it now."

His words and his scent and his warmth and the feelings that she sensed in him finally broke her, and she cried.

She cried, and she wept, and bawled, and sobbed. He held her tightly, silent and solid, knowing she needed to grieve before she could let go. He caressed her hair gently as she shook in his arms, until her tears cleansed the pain that festered in her soul, washing away the guilt and remorse that wouldn't let the gaping wound heal itself.

Her tears dried, but she remained huddled in his arms for a while yet, drinking thirstily of the comfort he offered. She took a deep, shivering breath and let it out slowly, then pulled away.

She gestured towards the rumpled and tangled sheets on the bed. "Is that not enough for you?"

His fingers pushed a stray bang away from her forehead. "I want it all," he breathed, then one end of his lips curled up in a crooked smile. "I am a thief, after all."

She wiped her eyes with a knuckle. They were still red-rimmed, but a tiny flicker danced in their depths now.

"And what makes you think you're the one who's going to be my knight in shining armor?"

He chuckled. "Can't think of anyone better."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Arrogant little asshole, aren't you?"

"Mmmmm," he purred. "I love it when you flatter me."

A small smile lit her face. Her hand went up and dug her fingers through his hair.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Jason," she spoke hoarsely as she pulled his head closer. For some reason his awareness of all the aching, soreness and discomfort became as sharp as a clear winter morning.

"I think I do," he smiled and kissed her.


End file.
